The rest of julies story
by Moonygrrl
Summary: You wanted it, you got it. More chapers from my wiccan story, about a teen in new england caught between her wiccan heritage, and her mothers christinan beliefs.


Chapter 1 of Untitled  
  
I slammed my locker shut, unable to control what I was feeling for a second more. I was sure that something bad was going to happen. I could feel it. I just could not put my finger on it, and that irritated me beyond belief. I heard the satisfying crash of metal hitting metal, before the door burst open again. The force of my blow had jammed the rusty old lock. "Great I said. Just great. Do you want to tell me what's going on today?" I said, my eyes raised toward the ceiling, as if expecting God himself to answer me.  
  
I began shoving books into the top shelf of my locker, which looked about ready to collapse in on itself at a moments notice. I cursed at myself, knowing that the lunch bell had rung a full five minuets ago, and recalling the Biology pop quiz on last nights reading assignment, which I had yet to find the time to read. I knew I had failed the quiz, but that still did not explain this terrible foreboding feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to sum it up to just a bad day as I finished shoving the last of my heavy books into my locker, grabbing my notebook and pen before I slammed it shut.  
  
Have you ever felt like something horrible was going to happen? You might call it De-ja vu, but it's a common occurrence in people with a Wiccan background, like me. And that special sixth sense was almost never wrong. I gave it a gentle shove afterwards, trying to make the lock click into place, and it worked. I took off down the hall way, walking as fast as humanly possible without actually running.  
  
They don't let you run through the halls of Southern High, yet they let you walk at incredibly fast speeds. There really isn't a difference anyway, I mean running is pretty close to walking at hyper speeds, but hey, as long as I could get to my classes quickly, I didn't care. I slowed down considerably as I neared the café's double doors, and paused to catch my breath and look around. There wasn't anyone in sight, and so I opened the double doors, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. If one of the teachers who was on lunch duty found me sneaking in late, they would wonder where I had been, and I did not feel like dealing with them today.  
  
I looked at the mismatched, discolored, dirty tiles that made up the café floor as they passed beneath my feet, drawing me closer to my lunch table. I made it without being noticed by either Mr. Cello or Ms. Angolan. I saw the gang, sitting in their usual positions against the far wall of the café, deep in discussion as usual. Anna and Denise sat opposite each other on the side of the table closest to me, and as I moved to my seat at the bottom right hand corner I saw that in the middle of the six-seater table, was on the side with Anna, Kara, and on the side with Laurel, Christine. I plunked down into the seat next to Christine, and uttered a small hello before looking ahead of me.  
  
"What's wrong Julie? ", Asked Laurel, pushing back from the table and looking behind the back of Christine to talk to me. I was surprised to notice that my facial expression conveyed how I was feeling. I didn't usually allow myself to look as unhappy As I sometimes felt. "Nothing, "I said, not bothering to look her in the eye. If I did, she would know something was wrong, and I'd have to explain this nagging feeling to her. I didn't feel like doing that now. Not with Kara and especially Anne sitting right there. they'd think I was crazy or something, that is, if they didn't think so already.  
  
I turned my head back to the space in front of me. Terry was there, leaning back in his chair, opposite mine, relaxed and humming a tune while twisting a sliver chain, sort of like mine, around his neck. Every time the rhythm of the song changed, he would reverse the direction in which he was twisting the chain. He had deep brown eyes that you felt as if you could fall into if you stared long enough, and his brown buzz cut hair showed of his family's deep Italian roots. He looked at ease and confident, and athletic with his navy blue hockey jersey. I'd known him for a long time. Our parents had been the best of friends in college, and still are, and he and I had grown up together. I always felt better when I saw him. Like the sight of him could reassure me that everything was going to be OK.  
  
I looked down at the pad and paper in my hands, and removed the pen cap. I leaned over my work, and began scribbling furiously. I had started doing this a few weeks ago, when my parent's told me that they were splitting up. It had not been the shock of a lifetime, but it had definitely altered my world, and I was trying to learn how to cope with our now broken family. I ignored the conversations taking place around me, and continued to scribble. I never ate lunch anymore, I used that time to write. When I first started writing, they had all thought that I was just being anti- social, but after a few weeks, they had grown accustom to my scribbling and no longer flinched as I whacked the pad down on the table and began to write. It had become common place noise, and I welcomed it.  
  
"Dear Cherie". I wrote at the top of the page.  
  
"I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I want to talk with Mom and Dad about the divorce and all the things Gram's been teaching me, but there really isn't much of a chance to do so. Not that they are ever around, and besides. If I got them in the same room, they'd either bicker, or they would ignore me. They've never been the "open-minded" kind anyway. Mom's always out at work, and Dad's settling into living in his new apartment in Harbor Side. I do not think they'd want to deal with any more surprises. Not now. I am going to have to figure this out on my own. And I also need to figure out whom Terry likes. I have a feeling there is something going on between him and Christine, but I'm not sure. And it's a tough job to find out anything when your information network (the gang) is only reliable about 50% of the time.  
  
Maybe I should try some of Gram's herbal tea this when I drop by her house tonight. It's supposed to calm you down, help you put things in perspective. If I can convince her that it's for a good cause, maybe she will teach me how to scry. If she does, I can see if there is anything in store for Christine and Terry, and get the closure I need to get over him. HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW I STILL LIKE HIM! That's incredibly frustrating, and I just wish that someone could understand that. I think Gram knows that this is hard for me. I mean, I want both of them to be happy, but I just don't understand sometimes why people can be so happy one day (like Terry and Christine) and ready to kill each other(Mom and Dad) the next..  
  
Ah, well, I know I can always count on Gram. She's a life saver. I just hope Mom won't ask me why I'm over there so often. She would flip if she knew. "Julie Rove Martin!" I can just picture her saying, a look of horror on her face. I do not understand her. Why can't she just embrace, or at least accept it, like Gram? Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to re-evaluate a few of my actions lately, and cut the circles down to just one a week."  
  
"Earth to Jules, come in Jules," said Anne looking at me from the far corner of the table. Christine passed her hand in front of my eyes, waking me up from the serenity of writing. Startled, I looked at Anne and snapped "What?" "Whoa, calm down Chicka. I only wanted to ask you a question." She said, leaning back in her seat and pushing against the table, moving her chair back even further. She looked insulted, and was giving me a slight pout, crinkling her olive skin, as she twirled a handful of black silky curls around her pointer finger. "Little springs" I thought, watching them bounce. I smiled as she nearly caught them in her silver puzzle ring, the one Jake, her newest significant other, had given her for their two month anniversary. This one had lasted a lot longer than most, I thought to myself, picturing the last three in my head, and how quickly she had grown tired of them. They'd all had flaws, sure, but they were cute, and sweet, and I would have dated them any day, not that that would ever be an opportunity. Why weren't they good enough for her? I wondered to myself.  
  
"I'm sorry Anne," I said, now fully comprehending what she wanted from me." I didn't mean to bark at you like that." "It's OK" said Anne, releasing her curls and watching as they bounced into place. "What did you want to ask me," I asked, putting the cap back on my pen and closing up my notebook. I leaned forward on my elbows and folded my arms while looking into her cold brown eyes, letting her know that she could stop the ice princess act, that she had my attention now. She laughed and said haughtily "Oh. so now I have your attention huh? "Yeah, you do, so ask away "I said, growing irritated with her exaggerated pauses. "All right then, she said pulling her chair back into the table.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christine's wavy, golden, shoulder length hair move back and forth as she silently shook her head. She smiled as she shook, having grown used to Anne's little power trips. I watched as she and Denise moved in to hear what Anne had to say. Aware that she had an audience, Anne began to speak." Well, " she said tartly, " I was just thinking about how you're on this writing kick lately, and how you don't really seem to want to do or discuss anything anymore. Not with us anyway. And I wanted to know how long you planned on keeping this little act of yours up?"  
  
I looked across the table at Terry for help, but it was clear from his shrug and avoidance eye contact, that he did not want to get in the middle of yet another cat fight. I looked back at Anne, taking in her hair, her skin, her eyes, and thought to myself, How could you be such a zealous bitch? You of all people should understand this. You cried every day for weeks when your parents got a divorce. I do not cry. You know that. Why can't you just understand and leave me in peace?" But that's not what I said. Instead I heard myself say, " I do it because I like to. If you don't like it, that's your problem. But I'm going to do it for as long as I feel like it. Get over it."  
  
After that, I broke eye contact, and brushed my long auburn hair back behind my ears. It fell again as I put my head down, reaching my hand up to my neck, and fingering the silver pentacle that hung there, suspended by a silver chain, just like Terry's, except his held a cross. It had been a gift from my grandmother on my fifteenth birthday. I never took it off, not even when showering. At home though I was thankful that it was on such a long chain. I could hide it beneath my shirt so Mom wouldn't notice. I felt naked without it, almost as if it was a part of me. I had a habit of playing with it when I was bored or upset. It was comforting and as usual, it was hot from having been resting so close to my body, and I clutched it in my hand while I waited for Anne's reaction.  
  
Anne was always exceedingly dramatic, no matter what the situation at was, and she had a tongue that was as sharp as a sword when she was angry. She was someone who enjoyed the spot light, and the only time she gave it up was to gossip about people. But If you could get down past her exterior, away from the school setting, and her snotty friends, Mary, Bre, and Raven, she could be a caring person. But the way she was acting today, I was in no mood to deal with her.  
  
Before Anne even opened her mouth, Kara stepped in. With one hand thrust palm towards me , and one hand thrust palm towards Anne, she said " Time out, back to your corners." Anne opened her mouth to protest, and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance, but before she could utter even a single syllable, Kara had already launched into a speech.  
  
'I am not refereeing another fight today. Julie, get rid of the attitude OK? It's really not working. And Anne, if you would quit being the bitch queen for just a sec, maybe you would see that she doesn't want to talk about it. Just back off." With that, she looked at me and nodded, I nodded as well, and I knew that she understood what I was feeling. She looked back at Anne, but Anne was already out of her seat, and she smashed it forwards in to the Formica table. There was a brief crashing, and I saw her burst through the café's double doors, her purse flying behind her, as she crossed the hall and entered the ladies' room.  
  
" Jesus," said Kara, " You'd think I'd just condemned her to hell or something. She's so damn sensitive when it comes to herself, but she doesn't seem to care about anyone else." I wanted to tell her that that wasn't totally true, but Kara had already grabbed some strawberries out of her lunch bag, and was juggling. She did this every day. Kara's motto was, " play first, eat later." She also had a thing about defying authority. Even her choice of clothing was sort of an act of defiance. She wore bell bottoms that were at least four sizes too big, she owned shirts that contained messages like " I am not anti-social, I'm just not real friendly" and she even wore a spiked dog collar sometimes, when she really wanted to make a statement. She was a really smart kid, even though some people assumed that she was some sort of drop out. Really, she just needed to apply herself more.  
  
We watched as the three strawberries passed through her hands, and up into the air, again and again, eventually forming a rhythm. The guys at the table next to ours started clapping and smiling, and so did I. I smiled every time she did her juggling fruit trick, because it really defused what had gone wrong during my day. Christine began to laugh, her golden bangle bracelets clinking. Now every time a strawberry passed through Kara's hand you heard a resounding clap from the whole first half of the lunchroom. I heard Denise yell " Go Kara!" And could see her red hair, tied in a bun, over the top of Christine's head, bobbing in time with the claps.  
  
I knew what was coming next. To the teachers, I guess this sort of thing appeared as sort of a food fight threat or something, because Mr. Cello always stopped Kara after a minute or two. I think the other part of it is that he recognized Kara's need for attention, and did not want her to have it, since she was, well, not one of his favorite students. Right on schedule, he began to cross the lunch room and move steadily towards our table. He had never liked Kara. She was strong and opinionated, everything he was not. She loved to defy authority, and I guess he felt offended by that.  
  
Someone once said that "people fear what they do not understand." That person would have loved Mr. Cello. He was the perfect person with which to prove that theory. I turned my gaze back in the direction of Kara, trying to warn her that he was coming, and that it was time to end the show, but she was caught up in it, smiling and watching the fruit fly through her hands. Last time Mr. Cello Had caught her at this, he had given her detention for two days. If she got it again she could be in even more trouble. And for what? Trying to diffuse a situation I created?  
  
Feeling guilty, I tried to think fast. How could I get Mr. Cello's attention, and keep Kara out of detention? Suddenly it hit me. I grabbed a strawberry out of Kara's lunch bag and threw it across the table at Terry, who was in his own little world and hadn't seen it coming. " Hey!" He yelled as it bounced off the side of his head and onto the lunch room floor. " Direct Hit!," I cheered, and waited to see if he would fight back. He gave me an evil grin, the one he'd had since we were five, and bent down to pick it up, almost knocking his Powerade bottle off the table in the process. He had always been somewhat of a klutz, even when we were kids he would bump into things and he had terrible aim, but then, I shouldn't be talking, as I'm not exactly graceful either.  
  
He threw it underhanded, and the fruit hit my shoulder, rolling down my creme colored shirt, leaving a slight pink mark as it went. " Oooooh you're dead', I said shaking my head and laughing like crazy. But Instead of throwing it at him, I handed it to Christine who began to pelt Terry with not just that strawberry, but the rest of the ones in the bag as well. I saw her throw her arms up as if proclaiming victory, and then create a defensive stance as Terry returned the blows. Kara looked at us now, aware that the attention was no longer on just her, and she tossed the strawberries into the air , one by one, catching them in her mouth. The lunch room cheered and Kara took a quick bow before sitting back down.  
  
She finished just as Mr. Cello got to our table. As he stood over us, the clapping stopped, and kids resumed their lunches. Terry froze mid toss, and dropped the rest of the strawberries into his brown paper bag, as if trying to hide the evidence. Christine flashed her best smile at him and with palm outstretched towards him said, " Would you like a strawberry too Mr. Cello?" I tried hard to keep a straight face, but inside I felt as if I was going to burst with laughter. No one else I know of could have gotten away with that. No one but Christine. The good girl. Pretty, Popular, kind, but stubborn as all hell, and sassy too. Good qualities to have I a best friend. At least, it had worked for us for quite awhile. "No, that's not necessary", said Mr. Cello, getting slightly stiffer than he had been previously. I knew he was going to let us have it soon.  
  
But before he could open his mouth again, I found that I couldn't keep the laughter inside me anymore, and I began to smile. I felt the giggles escape my lips and I looked up at Mr. Cello who frowned even more deeply at me and said gruffly" That's quite enough Julie. I expected more from you." " From all of you," he said, looking each one of us directly in the eye before moving on to the next part of his speech." I'm telling you. This is not the time nor the place, and I will not condone any of this behavior. Is that understood?" " Yes sir," we said in unison, trying to appear somber while suppressing a flood of giggles. With that said, he turned on his heels and walked back to his usual place beside Mrs. Angolan.  
  
When we were sure that he had moved out of ear shot, we all burst out laughing, and Terry nearly fell over from lack of air. He pulled himself back up by leaning on Kara's shoulder and she gave him her trademark "I don't think so glance". Which sort of goes as follows.She looked from him, to his hand on her shoulder, and back at him again, before shaking her head and saying "Nuh-uh buddy. I'm happy with ya, but not that happy." "Ohhhhhhh," said Denise, leaning forward on the table, giggling and pointing at Terry. "She so totally burned you." Terry shrugged and smiled at Christine. "Girls." he said, shaking his head and smiling. "They just aren't as mature as you are, eh Christine?"  
  
I waited to hear her sly response, but to my surprise, there wasn't one. I looked at her and laughed at the red creeping across her face. She was blushing and smiling shyly. Usually Christine was in control, and did not become flustered when a guy talked to her, but I guess that Terry had surprised her, and she hadn't had time to prepare a retort. I chuckled to myself as I took the cap off my pen, and flipped back to diary entry I had already started. "Here she goes again," said Terry, who had turned his head away from Christine long enough to see what I was up to. And now he was shaking his head at me as I prepared to write. "Yep," I said, a huge smile on face. "You didn't think I'd just forget about our little triumph over a sorry old History teacher did you? That's something to remember. Of course I'm gonna write about it." "Oy, Girls.," Terry muttered for the second time today. I looked back down at my notepad, and began to pick up where I had left off.  
  
".Anyway, like I was saying before, Grammy scrys with an old quarts crystal and water. Water is not always accurate though. I want to be sure. Maybe she knows someone who could teach me how to scry with Fire. I need to know what is going to happen. I want to make sure that If Terry and Chris do get together, I will not have to worry about her getting hurt. I don't want Christine to get "in trouble" like Terry's last girl friend, but I also don't know for sure that he has a thing for her. It's really hard for me to watch my best friend fall for the guy of my dreams. But it's not like he even thinks of me that way. Does he?  
  
Gram was in a situation like this once, with Grandpa Ethan. They were both Wiccan, and that was what brought them together. I'm hoping that my being Wiccan, and Terry's being Christian is not going to divide us permanently. I don't know if I could deal with that. I mean, It's hard enough to watch him flirt with Chris, but for me not to know him at all.I don't know.  
  
But, let's forget that for now. I have other things on my mind besides Terry. What is really on my mind right now is the fact that Mr. Cello did not give any of us detentions. I know I should not have laughed at him, but when I did, he gave me this look that sent shivers down my spine. He said he "expected more" from me, and then sort of said it to the others as an afterthought. Maybe I'm just being weird, but for some reason that bothers me..."  
  
Before I could get any farther, I sensed tension, and was forced to look up. Just then I saw Anne come back in through the café's double doors, looking embarrassed and sheepish as she inched towards us. Her make up was fresh, but her mascara was a bit runny, so I knew she had been crying. She didn't look at me as she sat down, she just pulled out her chair, and slowly sunk into it, staring at the table, her hair hanging down in her face, the ringlets shiny from the brushing she must have given it while in the lavatory. She shot a nasty side look at Kara before Mrs. Angolan came over to dismiss us to our next class.  
  
I had a lot on my mind as I got up and set out, for my next and favorite class, art. Terry was in my class, and I wanted to talk to him about what was going on, if anything, with him and Christine. I knew he wasn't going to just come out and tell me. I would have to press him for the information. I owed it to Christine, to tell her the truth about what he thought about her.didn't I ? As I walked out the café door, I felt Mr. Cello's eyes on me, and the foreboding feeling came back. "What did I do that's of such interest to him," I wondered to myself as I said goodbye to Denise and Christine, whose next classes were in the opposite direction, and I headed off to the art room, Terry already way ahead of me. "I'll tell gram about it later", I said to no one in particular, lost in thought as I passed through the art room door.  
  
Chapter 2 of Untitled  
  
Once inside the art room, I walked down to my seat at one of the paint splattered ,oversized, circular tables, and watched as Terry, sitting to my left, threw his Powerade bottle into the air repeatedly, almost drooping the catch several times. As I said before, He is a klutz by nature, more so than anyone else than I have ever met. In my sixteen years, I had met a lot of people. He kept tossing, and as I put my books down on the table, I looked expectantly around the art room.  
  
The Junior year Sculpture class. You would think that the class would contain a lot of kids who were the "Artistic type" But most of us were just amateurs. We were still learning about art, and how to express ourselves through it. I looked over the walls of the room, where students from years past had painted murals of the sea and the rain forest, outer space, and the desert. I always loved looking at the murals, and marveling at the talent it took to create them. Talent that I wish I had.  
  
I have always loved drawing and painting, making things with my hands. But I also loved to write and act and sing. To me, those were the important things. If you can personalize it, make it your own, and just let the creative juices flow, then you have most likely done something you're going to love. For me, art was a retreat. A way to put all my confused feelings down on canvas. Anger, joy, dreams, fear, it could all be displayed do easily and clearly through art. You could capture a moment, and then see what made you feel that way. With art, no one ever told you what you could or could not do. The opportunities were endless, and the result was always something that showed the world who you were and how you felt.  
  
I brought my gaze slowly back to Terry, who was still tossing the bottle into the air. This time, I grabbed it before he could, and he gave me look of annoyance. 'What exactly, do you think you're doing with my Powerade?" He asked, leaning over the table his palm flat against its color splotched surface. He turned his head to side to look at me, and I sat on the table, holding the bottle with my right hand, as far out of his reach as possible. "I'm not doing anything to it. I just want you to answer a few questions for me before the bell rings and Mr. Karol comes in." "Fine" he said. "What do you want to know?"  
  
I had second thoughts about asking, for just a second, before a wave of guilt ran over me reminding me that I had promised Christine that I would find out. "I want to know what's going on between you and Christine", I said matter-of-factly. "Do you like her?" "She's hot", he said, smiling. "I'd date her." "Oh?", I said, swallowing hard and blinking. "Yeah, I mean, she's smart, and she unlike another girl, who's name I will not release at this time," he said giving me a lopsided smile before continuing," doesn't ask me to talk about my personal shit when I don't want her to." "That's all I wanted to know" I said, looking down at the table, my eyes slightly blurry, making the splatters of dried paint come together like some weird pointless mosaic.  
  
I reviewed the information I had just gathered in my head, and I realized painfully, that I would need to give Christine a more concrete answer that the one he had given me. I knew he had been joking when he had hinted that I was sticking my nose in where it didn't belong, but it hurt me to realize that we were not as close as I had thought we were. I mean, He had told me a lot of personal stuff through the years, and had even asked me for advice when he had accidentally knocked up his girlfriend of six months. But I never thought that he wouldn't want me to be involved in this.  
  
I tossed his Powerade back to him, and slowly slid off the table top and into my seat. The late bell rang and Mr. Karol, burst in, looking totally flustered in his mis-buttoned Hawaiian shirt and ripped jeans. He carried a briefcase with papers sticking out haphazardly, looking ready to fall to the floor any second. Being somewhat of a neat freak myself, I had am urge to re-stack the papers and tuck them neatly into his worm leather briefcase, but it passed quickly.  
  
He was, by far, the most disheveled faculty member in the school. He never wore anything that even remotely matched and he was "one of those spontaneous free souls" and Gram would put it. He lived for the art's and even had his own studio. I wondered sometimes, if he lived n his studio. If you looked, you could see that he often had a smudge of paint on his unshaven cheeks and his black hair had gray streaks that made him look like a male version of Frankenstine's bride. He was definitely unique, even when it came down to his teaching style. To get our attention he would suddenly spring to life and jump a top the nearest table, his hands in the classic explorer stance. This guy was definitely a piece of work.  
  
"OK guys", he said placing his briefcase down at his oversized desk in the middle of the room, surrounded by four circular tables. " Let's see if we can't get some actual work done today. I want to see creativity blossoming, and I want hard work from you guys. No zoning out or checking out the 'hottie' next to you. He said "hottie" using his fingers to form quotation marks. " Yes Sir," said Terry, giving a sloppy salute and making the rest of our class laugh.  
  
W e got up to gather our materials from the supply cabinets on the far right wall. The cabinets were old and dented, but they contained everything you could ever need to create a creative masterpiece. I dug through the bottom shelf, searching for just the right shades of orange, red, yellow and brown to complete my Autumnal landscape. Halloween was coming soon, and I wanted something to offer the goddess when Gram and I celebrated Samhain. Samhain is the Wiccan new year,(it falls on Halloween night) when we give thanks for the harvest, and look forward to the barrenness of winter. What better way to depict that than through a painting?  
  
Kneeling on the floor next to me was Megan Reynolds, one of the most talented girls in our class. She was the head of the art club and always wore dungarees splattered with about a zillion different paint shades. She held a paint brush between her teeth as she dug to the very back of the shelf., humming a tune as she selected her paints. I envied her artistic talent, and the youthful enthusiasm she put into all of her work. Everything she did, even talki9ng, or the painting of sad scene , had undeniable zest. I wouldn't say that she was happy exactly, but she just had so much energy, that you couldn't help but feel upbeat around her.  
  
In Sophomore year, she had dyed her hair a neon green. Not the whole thing, but not just the tips either. Megan always wore pigtails, and when she died her hair, she had died it while they were up in the little pigtail gig. The end result was that when you looked at her, she had gorgeous brown n the middle of her head, and then as your eye moved outward on each side, she appeared to have two husks of un-shucked corn growing out of her head. I had to hand it to her, she was definitely not afraid to be unique or different. But what's amazing is how few people gave her grief because of it.  
  
"Han ma dat dolor", said Meg, nodding towards the yellow tube of paint in my hand. " What" I said, "Han me dat dolor en er han" Said Meg, her mouth still occupied with holding the paint brush. Seeing that her arms were already full of a variety of bright colors, I removed the brush from her mouth and said "Want to try that again, and in English this time?" " Thanks", said Meg, chuckling as we crouched together on the floor. "I just wanted to know if you could hand me the color your holding? That yellow is perfect for the sunset I'm painting." "sure", I said, " But how do you plan on getting all those paints back to your seat without dropping them all over the floor?" "Actually." she said looking hopeful, "I was wondering If you could help me carry some of this stuff over to my seat?" "Sure," I said, starting to feel like a broken record and reaching out to grab some of the jars she had piled against her chest. " Mucho Gracias" she said. Since she now had one hand free, she leaned against the cabinet, and reached her arm up two shelves, using them to support her weight as she righted herself. Not that there was anything to her anyway. I followed her example, and gripping the jars tightly, I walked over to the table next to mine and placed them gently on it's surface.  
  
" You're going to use all these?" I said, looking at how much I had actually been carrying with disbelief. " Yep, mixing colors takes too much effort. I say just get what you need in the first place, and then you don't have any problems with mixing or matching colors." "I'll remember that next time", I said, returning to my table with the four colors I had been searching for. I opened a tube marked "firelight", which was a brilliant orange, with just a bit of yellow mixed in.  
  
I closed my eyes and pictured a crackling fire on a cold autumn evening. I saw Terry and me, sitting on the floor by it, cross-legged , a bowl of freshly popped popcorn between us. I was smiling and as I looked into his deep brown eyes, I could see the flames dance and heard the fire crackle. "If only", I said to myself as I pulled myself out of that daydream and back to the real world. I dipped my paintbrush into the patella and started to paint. I looked to the left of the room, where the huge windows were. I settled in to watch the subject of my painting, an old knurled tree, shedding it's brilliant multi-colored leaves for the winter .I watched the colored leaves blow in the wind, and turn and twist as some fell to the ground.  
  
I was just about to rinse the brush in cool water when I heard a noise behind me. I turned, the arm holding the brush extended outwards, when I felt it brush against something. When I had turned 180 degrees in my seat I saw what I had hit. Mr. Karol was standing there, looking down at his light blue hawian shirt, which now had a streak of brilliant orange across the front of it. " Oh Geez!" I said, realizing that I had been the one to put it there. " I'm so sorry!" He laughed, looked from his shirt to me, cocked his head to the side and said "Um.just a thought but, you do know that your supposed to paint the canvas, and not the teacher.right?" I smiled sheepishly and nodded, while apologizing for the second time. " Not a problem, " said Mr. Karol. " Just watch where you point that thing next time. It can be a hazard in the wrong hands." He pointed at Terry and Richard Paccar who were using their paint brushes as swords, mocking the Jedi light sabers from the Star Wars movie " The Emperor Strikes Back. " 'Nuff said", said he laughed, walking over to break up the fight before they could totally trash the room or break something.  
  
I smiled and shook my head as he confiscated their brushes, and thought of why it was that Christine liked Terry to begin with. He had a real childlike personality. He loved playing around and flirting like crazy, and he was a master at it. But what she didn't see, was his past, and all the bad judgments he'd made. She hadn't seen him grow up, and change into the awesome person he is now. She hadn't watched the joy on his face as he hit a home run in softball in the 3rd grade. She didn't know what his favorite cereal was or his favorite rock band. She hadn't watched as he plowed through girl after girl, searching for one to meet his standards, and she didn't know what it was like to listen to him talk about them, wishing he was talking about you the whole time. There's so much I new about him, that she didn't.but I also knew that as much as I hated to admit it, she had an opportunity I didn't have. She had the opportunity to be a part of his life in the very way I wanted most. And as her best friend, I had to do my best to make sure she got what she wanted.  
  
I stared at my picture, looking glum, and wishing that I had the power to get out of the middle of the whole thing. If she likes him so much why can't she just ask him out herself?, I wondered as I dragged my paintbrush across the canvas, filling in more blank space. I knew that I would have to come up with more concrete evidence that he liked her, and taking the direct route sure wasn't working, so I tried to think of ways to make it work. I spent the rest of the class period trying to figure out how to make Terry fess up to having a definite concrete interest in Christine. I ran a million ideas through my head, but by the last five minutes of class, nothing had come to me.  
  
"Time to pack it up guys," said Mr. Karol, walking around to see what we had accomplished. "Great Job!", he said to Megan as she pressed her paint covered hand into the middle of her sunset. " You've taken an ordinary scene, and made it your own. That's excellent!" I looked closely at Megan's hand print, and noticed that not only was it her hand print, but it was her signature neon green color. I laughed to myself, and turned back to my own work, realizing that all I had really managed to do was fill up empty spaces with orange between the other leaves. I definitely hadn't put much effort into this class. I had bigger fish to fry.  
  
"Had some trouble concentrating I see", said Mr. Karol comparing my work to Meg's. "Yeah," I said distractedly. "I had a lot on my mind." "Don't worry about it." he said, nodding as if he understood exactly what I meant. "Everyone has their off days. Just look at your friend Terry. He's managed to write his name on the paper. That's as far as he got. I'm not worried that you didn't get much done. The difference between you and Terry is that I know you will eventually get back in the zone. .I don't even think Terry knows what planet he's on, much less where his artistic zone is."  
  
I smiled up at him, and my eye traveled to the bright orange streak that had dried onto his shirt. I noticed that wasn't the only paint splatter on his shirt, and I smiled even wider, thinking to myself" I could say the same about you Mr. Karol. You think Terry's a space cadet?!? Have you looked in the mirror lately?"  
  
Then Terry plopped down into his seat next to me, and I looked at him as Mr. Karol moved across the room to look at Reid's sculpture. " Somebody call me?" he asked, totally unaware of the conversation I'd just had with Mr. Karol about him. " Nope," I said, giving him a big smile and brushing my hair behind my ears again. I looking down at my drying canvas. Then about two seconds later, I saw straight auburn strands fall in my face again. I was about to reach for them, when Terry reached over and pulled them behind my ear for me.  
  
I think I probably turned about eight shades of pink immediately after that, and then started mentally kicking myself for blushing when I knew didn't have a chance with him. "Um...thanks", I said, still refusing to look up, afraid he'd pickup on my embarrassment. "No problem", he said brushing it off. Then, as if studying an abstract painting, he cocked his head to the side and stared at my head, as if deep in thought. "What now Einstein?", I said finally looking up at him after making sure that my face had returned back to it's normal pasty white color. He made a fist and placed it under his chin, his elbow on the top of the back of the chair. " I was just thinking about how for as long as I've known you, you've never worn your hair up." " I have too!" I protested, looking for any reason to argue with him, and hopefully get rid of the tingly feeling from when he had touched my ear. " I've worn it up in gym class, and I wear it when I'm working around people cough cough who tend to be rather sloppy with their artwork. You know, the kind that like to use their paint brush as a light saber, flinging paint onto the people next to them. That's a major hazard for a girl's hair you know," I replied, giving him my biggest" don't ya just love me" grin. "Very funny Missy' he said, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head at me. " I just thought it might look nice" he muttered, fingering the chain around his neck.  
  
I made a mental note to tell Christine to wear her hair up, while trying to fight my own urge to take my scrunchie off my arm and throw my hair up into a ponytail myself.  
  
When he'd finished, he watched me smirk as I closed up my paint jars, and then got up to help Rein move his statue into the back supply room. It was too heavy for just one guy to carry alone, especially Reid, who was, as his name suggested, as skinny as a reed, with tiny muscles to match. I picked up my waist length hair and studied it, wishing that I'd never heard him say anything at all about hair. I knew that when I got home I'd have to dig through my sister's fashion magazines, searching for a pretty style. Marie wouldn't mind if I borrowed one of her teen life magazines, and besides, she'd borrowed my Dizzy D's CD and still hadn't returned it. She owed me a little favor.  
  
I sat up, digging through my old navy purse, trying to find a hairbrush. When I realized what I was doing, I saw that I was letting the Terry thing interfere with my life. Why should I care what he thinks? I asked myself, not wanted to know the answer. This was the same boy who, at age five, had thought it cool to jump on his bed, his head adorned with Hanes His Way underwear, singing Power Ranger songs at the top of his lungs. This was not the kind of person you'd really want to rely on for fashion advice. I laughed softly to myself, wishing we could go back to being carefree five year olds again. Things were so much simpler for us back then. Girls had cooties, boys were disgusting, and all was right with the world. When did all that change? I wondered to myself as I heard the bell ring, signaling that we should get a move on to the last class of the day, history.  
  
I picked up my binder and books slowly, waiting for Terry in my usual spot, just outside the art room door. A few seconds later he came out, and looked to the right of the door, expecting me to be there, then turning his head in the opposite direction, he said " Oh! There you are. What up girl? You look sad." I'm not sad, I said, trying to quit reminiscing enough to hold a decent conversation. "And don't say 'what up girl', It's not nice", I said, flashing him a smile. " Yes Ma'am", he said, putting his hands up as if a victim of a stick up. I laughed and played along saying " Yeah, that's right. Call me ma'am. And then give me all your money. Oh wait.you don't have any money.so give me some of that Powerade", I said reaching for it. " You sure are pushy", he said, handing it to me. I took a quick sip and put the top back on very lightly, not screwing it on. I handed it back to him. "Ewww"!, he said mockingly. "Julie germs!" I elbowed him and we continued to walk down the hallway, talking and laughing.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
  
Half way to our seventh period class we met up with Christine. "Hey guys" she said, waving at us and smiling." What have you been up to?" " Nothing" I said. " What do you mean nothing?", said Terry. "She's been asking me a load of questions, and then she has the nerve to take a swig out of my Powerade bottle!" Christine laughed and said, "what's the matter Terry, can't handle a girl who knows what she wants?" Terry put on a lop sided smile, and looked at Christine. "Nah," he said. "Julie knows what she wants, and she takes it." "I see" said Christine. " What do you want Chris?" said Terry. Christine looked at me, and I knew she was thinking about Terry. We laughed hysterically, bumping into each other as we walked, trying to suppress our giggles. "I know what you want," I said, looking at her and then nodding towards Terry who was shaking his head and rolling his Powerade around between the palms of his hands.  
  
"You know," I said giving my attention to Terry," If you keep shaking your head like that, you'll knock something in there loose." " Not that there is anything in there to knock loose," said Reid, coming up behind Terry and me, putting his arms around our shoulders. " Hey man, said Terry, as they did there signature hand shake.  
  
Terry and Reid has been best friends since we were nine and Terry had first gotten a reputation for being a ladies man. "We have got to get you some friends who aren't chicks" Reid said his hands still on Terry's and my shoulders. "Tell me about it," Terry said nodding at me and Christine, who were still giggling. "Hey!" I said. "We aren't that bad, and besides, if it wasn't for us girls, you would be a very lonely guy. It would be just you and your Powerade bottle. And I doubt very much that you would want a relationship with an inanimate object ",I said, giving him a big grin. " Then again", said Christine, "this is Terry that were talking about here." She and I fell into another fit of giggles. "Chicks", said Reid, shaking his head and smiling at Terry, who was staring at Christine while rolling the Powerade around in his hands." If they weren't so damn cute, I'd have to think up a retort." "Cute?" said Terry, staring at Reid as if he was crazy. Then, looking over at me, he smiled and said, "Evil little vixens are more like it."  
  
By that time we had gotten relatively close to Mr. Cello's history classroom. "Well," said Reid, "I guess the fun stops here. Right ladies?" I smiled at him, and then turned back to Christine. Crooning a finger at her , to get her to lean in closer, I whispered into her ear, "I got some information, I need to get more. Meet me at the park tonight, when we meet for the circle. I'll tell you then." " OK" she whispered back. "I'll see you later." Bye guys!" she said, stopping three classrooms away from where Reid and I needed to be. "Bye Vixen " yelled Reid, waving to her. I laughed and watched as she entered Mrs. Grommet's science class.  
  
"Vixen?" I said. " Don't you think that's just a little degrading?" Terry looked at Reid for a second as Reid shook his head. "Nope," said Terry. "It's not degrading. Right Reid? " Right Ter." But that would make you a male chauvinist pig." I said smiling as I realized that I was just about to engage in a gender war with two of the most bull headed guys ever put on earth. " Oh Geez." Said Terry. "Don't even go there." "You're one of those women's rights advocates, eh Julie? I say good for you." " OK.." I thought to myself. " Reid has never struck me as the type of guy who would support anything involving women, unless it had to do with strippers or lap dancers. So why the sudden turn around?"  
  
" Since when do you support women's rights Reid?" I said. " Since I found out that being on the ladies side of an issue scores you a lot of points." " nice Reid.real nice," I said looking at his hand on my shoulder as if it was toxic slime. "Ouch man" Said Terry, observing my expression.  
  
"Give me some of that Powerade", said Reid, changing the subject. "Sure" said Terry. "Here." With that, Terry tossed the Powerade behind him, unaware that I had not put the top on correctly. The bottle began to tip downward, and the top fell right off, showering Reid in bright red Powerade. It was everywhere. In his hair, down in face, it was even running down his tan sweater. " Shit" said Reid, his arms out and bent, looking at his now pink sweater. Terry and I stepped away from him quickly, trying not to get any of the sticky red drink on ourselves. "Great!, just great!" Said Reid in utter disgust, grabbing the bottom of his sweater and pulling it upwards to wipe off his face.  
  
I wanted to giggle as I leaned back against the lockers on Reid's left. Then, just above my head, the bell rang and shuddered, telling us that we were late for class. "Ouch," I said, my ears ringing from the noise. I looked around, and saw that the halls had thinned out long ago. "I really heave to go", said Terry, backing towards the nearest class room. "Sorry Dude", he called over his shoulder, jogging down the hallway. "Well" I said, checking my watch and then looking back at his soiled shirt, "Don't worry Reid. It's not that bad. Besides. I hear that pink is a unisex color these days." "Yeah, I'm so lucky," said Reid sarcastically, pulling his sweater over his head. "Come on", I said, eyeing his tee-shirt. "Lets get to class. You'll be fine. Just soak it in water when you get home." I heard him sigh as he rolled the sweater into an untidy ball and tucked it under his arm.. Then we took off down the hallway, hoping we wouldn't be in a huge amount of trouble for being late.  
  
We stopped just short of Mr. Cello's room to catch our breath, and peeked in. Cello was at his backboard, his back to the door. Knowing this might be the only chance we had to sneak in unnoticed, Reid and I scooted into the room, and grabbed two seats in the back row. As I sat down, my chair made a loud creak and I heard Mr. Cello say, without turning even an inch from the board, " How nice of you two to join us. I'll be seeing you after class." " Shit," I mumbled under my breath, looking down at my binder and uncapping my pen. " It's last period, and I'm not usually late. So why is he so determined to roast my ass for this one?"  
  
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, hoping that the fruity taste would get rid of that stupid foreboding feeling. It had been getting stronger since lunch, and I was starting to wonder if I was just getting sick or something. " Nah," I thought to myself as I popped the gum into my mouth. "Something else is going on here, And whatever it is, it really isn't good." I reached for my pendant, fingering it gently as I attempted to figure out what could happen that would be so bad as to give me such a strong negative vibe. I couldn't come up with anything.  
  
Mr. Cello turned around and said to us, " Get out your paper and pens people. You've all been in this class for about two months now. You know the routine, so why do I still see people sitting here with nothing on their desks to take notes with? If you can't keep up, then drop the class, but I'm starting whether you're prepared for it or not." He watched as people who had been siting idly started to take out paper and pencils, and those who had none began asking around.  
  
True to his word, Mr. Cello began his lecture on the 1600's. " In the spring of 1663, Charles the second indicated that a new era in colonization was underway when he granted eight of his courtiers a generous part of the Atlantic seaboard called Carolina. It was the greatest single unoccupied piece of land between Virginia and Spanish Florida. When in 1665 the charter was expanded, Charles then indicated that England was once again on the march in America. The proprietors."  
  
I was trying hard to keep up, but it seemed like a futile effort, so I started to tune him out. Mary Anne would probably give me the notes after class if I needed them. She was really smart, and one of those kids whom you could always make friends with right before a big test, just long enough for her to tell you all the answers. She was sitting in the front row, right in front of Mr. Cello, writing furiously. She was a nice enough kid, but she was the kind of girl who made the rest of us look bad. And not just some of the time, but always.  
  
At the top of my paper, I wrote in block letters, " Get Mary Anne to give me the history notes from class.", and I began to let my mind wander. I clenched my fist around my pentacle, pulling it back and forth on it's silver chain, as I thought excitedly about tonight's circle. I'd been going to circles headed by Ben Heron, a senior, and Reid's older brother, since the end of freshman year. But his wasn't the only circle I went to.  
  
My grandmother was the high priestess of her own coven, which held the name Atlantis. My grandmother had selected that name, because both she and Grandpa Ethan were Scorpio's, a water sign. I went to Ben's circles, mainly because there were more kids my age there, and that made it a lot more fun, but you didn't learn as much. Technically, after a year and a day of studying Wicca, and coming to circles, you were initiated in to it as an actual witch. I wanted to be initiated into Ben's coven, but I still had almost six months to go, and Christine had even longer. I thought back to when Christine had first gotten involved in Wicca. I still remember the day she found out I was training to be a witch.  
  
We had been sitting on the floor of my room, singing along to the latest Dizzy D's song on the radio. ". You don't hear what I say, you don't care what I think, we keep going round in circles, this whirlpools gonna make us sink, la da de da, you don't want to know, you don't seem to care, and of each others problems, we are unaware, la da de da."  
  
"Hey," said Christine, reaching under my bed. " What's this?" In her hand was a black leather bound notebook, a pentacle engraved in gold on the cover. " Oh that's nothing," I said, making a grab for it. She rolled on the plush carpet, over to the left, and started to flip through the pages, scanning words. " It's just a stupid notebook, I said, rolling across the floor till I could reach the book. I grabbed for it, but by then it was too late.  
  
" Directions for a circle?" she said, as if speaking a foreign language for the first time. "Draw a large circle, but do not close it until all are inside. Sprinkle salt around the circle, and then say, 'with this salt I purify our circle.' Then join hands with the circles other members." She kept reading as I made useless grabs for the book. Then she looked up at me, a confused and concerned glint in her eye. " Julie, what is this stuff?" she said, shutting the cover and looking at the golden pentacle. I didn't answer her. I didn't know if she would understand, but I decided to risk it and told her the truth.  
  
I cleared my throat as she and I sat up, and I took the book gently from her. " It's called A Book of Shadows" I said, hoping she would understand, " And it's sort of like a diary, except for witches." Her eyes grew big and she looked at me like I had three heads. " You're a witch?" She said, staring wide eyed in disbelief, her gaze falling from me, to the book, and back to me again. " Well, not exactly," I said. " You know how I told you my grandma practiced the religion Wicca? Well, I wanted to try it out, and Gram said she would guide me, so I bought a book of Shadows. It's where witches write about their lives, the spells they try, the special circles they attend with other witches, ect."  
  
" You're Grandma is teaching you this? she said, acting like that was the craziest thing she had ever heard. "That would make your dad." "Wiccan?" I said, supplying the word for her. " Yeah, he was. He had to give it up when he married my mom, but yeah, Wiccan blood runs in our family." I watched Christine closely, waiting to see her reaction.  
  
"Oh god." Said Christine, leaning her back against the baseboard of my bed, her face paler than I had ever seen it before. "Does your mom know your doing this?" she asked, her eyes closed, her hands rubbing her temples. "Nope", I said, relaxing a bit as I saw the color slowly come back to her face. " Dad gave it up because when he and my mom got married, she didn't want him doing anymore magick. Dad had been initiated as a witch into a coven, and the only way to leave a coven, is to move so far away, that it makes it impossible for you to attend circles. Gram knows that Dad isn't in a coven any more, and that as long as he and mom are together, he can't join a neighboring coven. She want's to make sure our Wiccan blood isn't wasted, and since I'm her only grandchild aside from Marie who believes, like mom, that Wicca is evil, she decided to teach me."  
  
"OK."said Christine hesitantly. "But, isn't Wicca evil? Like, don't you worship the devil or something?" She actually looked scared, and being my inconsiderate self, I couldn't help but laugh. " The devil?" I said acting like that was the silliest thing I'd ever heard. "No Chris. There is no Devil in Wicca. Really, it's about people celebrating nature, and life, and rejoicing in our own energy. Everyone has Magick inside of them. Nature helps bring it out. Trust me, it's not evil." I gave her a reassuring look, and then added " If it will make you feel more at ease, you can come with me to a circle. Ben Heron leads them. Then you can decide for yourself if its evil."  
  
After that, Chris had steadily attended circles with me, but I knew that her heart wasn't really in it. She treated Wicca like it was some sort of game, where you acquired magical powers as you went, rather than treating it like the true religion it was. But all the same, it was comforting to have her around. Especially since there weren't that many sophomores in the coven to begin with.  
  
Just then, I herd Mr. Cello's voice break through my daydream, snapping me back to reality. " Julie Martin, can you answer the question?" he asked, knowing I probably didn't even know what the question was. " What question?" I said confused at what was going on. " When was Charles town established Miss Martin?" said Mr. Cello, a smile curving across his lips. " I don't know" I said, wishing he would pick on someone else. " Oh, but you do know Miss Martin. If you were paying attention, and copying down the notes as you were told to, the answer should be right in front of you. And if it's not, maybe we need to have a little chat with your parents."  
  
I looked at my paper hoping the answer would just magically appear there, even though I knew there was no chance of that. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Reid, sitting next to me on my left, trying to get my attention by knocking on the wooden top of his desk. "1670", he whispered, trying not move his lips enough to signal Mr. Cello in to the fact that he was giving me the answer. " 1670" I called out, meanwhile thanking the goddess for Reid's craftiness. "That's correct" said Mr. Cello. "But tell me Julie, where will Reid be when you're taking the midterm? Will he be able to help you out then as well?" I saw Reid slump down in his seat, giving Mr. Cello the middle finger under the desk.  
  
Mr. Cello didn't seem to notice that, and let his eyes roam around the room. "That enough for today everyone, he said. You may pack up your belongings and wait by the door for the bell to ring," he said , seeming glad to be rid of us. "With the exception of Miss Martin and Mr. Heron, who will remain right where they are." He said looking at the two of us, sill smiling sinisterly.  
  
Reid and I looked at each other as everyone else packed up and walked behind us, heading to the door which was directly behind Reid. "Have fun!" called Mike, one of Reid's friends, smiling just like Mr. Cello. " Yeah , it'll be a real blast." said Reid, giving Mike an ungrateful look. "Get outta here man," said Reid before turning back to me. The bell rang, and everyone filed out, leaving me alone with Reid and Mr. Cello, who was sitting at his desk grading papers. After a few minuets, Reid and I looked at each other, confused as to why Mr. Cello did not seem to acknowledge our existence in the room. Reid coughed into his hand, to try to get his attention, but that didn't work. Mr. Cello finished grading a paper and reached across his desk for another one.  
  
I slid out of my seat and into the deserted isle, my seat making that annoying creaking noise again. Mr. Cello kept correcting papers, and seemingly didn't hear the noise. I walked up the isle, and right up to his desk, my shadow casting darkness across the paper work he was grading. " Um.Mr. Cello," I said cautiously, cocking my head to the side. " You had said that you wanted to speak with us?" "I thought I told you to remain right where you were. Did I not?" He said coldly." Yes but." I began to protest. " Go sit down Julie. I'll be with you when I have finished grading these papers. " But the buses are leaving, said Reid, looking out the window at the last few kids climbing up the bus steps. " I told you to remain seated. You will not be taking the bus home. You will be staying after for detention with me. Now sit down and be quiet." I turned on my heel and walked dejectedly back to my seat, falling into it and slumping as it creaked.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
  
We sat there for a few more minutes, Reid and I shrugging at each other, pained expressions on our faces. I knew that Reid had gotten detention before, but I wasn't sure if he had necessarily had it with Mr. Cello. I, on the other hand, had never had a detention in my entire school career, and was freaking out. "Why did you have to be late for class? Why did you have to create a food fight in the cafeteria? And why did you have to disrupt your entire school record?!?" I asked myself over and over again. I shook my head and placed my palm against my forehead, dragging it back through my auburn hair. I let the strands fall through my fingers, watching each small group as it fell back where it belonged.  
  
I began reviewing my situation in my head, and how it would effect the rest of the night." Wait till mom hears where I was. She'll friggin' kill me. Maybe I could tell her I joined art club after school or something. That might work. I'll drive there first, or maybe over to grams house? I was supposed to go there after school, but Mom's probably going to tell me its too late to go there now. Damn Mr. Cello. He just sits there! What! Does he think we're just going to sit here till 4:30? That's forty five minutes. We've already sat here for fifteen. I'm not siting any longer."  
  
Then, as if on cue, Mr. Cello got up and walked right down the isle between Reid and myself, and over to the door. Turning around to face him, he looked at us in disgust. " See that bucket of water on the counter by my desk? You two are to wash the desks and black board thoroughly. I'm going to the teachers room for a meeting. When I return, you had better have cleaned it to my satisfaction. Is that clear? " Yes," said Reid and I in unison. With that, Mr. Cello walked through the doorway and down the hall towards the teachers room.  
  
"That guy has to be the most uptight bastard I have ever met." Said Reid, standing up and stretching. " Yeah," I said, "but we don't really have much of a choice. We sort of have to do what he says, so let's get going." I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of working with Reid, but it was better than having to clean the whole room by myself, so I was more than willing to work with him. I just hope he doesn't have a problem working with me.  
  
I picked up a yellow sponge that was floating on the water in the bucket, and began to scrub the chalk board. Altogether there were five chalk boards in the room. Three on one wall, two on another. " Do you want to clean the desks and I'll do the black boards?" "Sure," said Reid smiling coyly, "The girl gets the easy job." I wanted to whack him for teasing me, just as I usually whacked Terry, but I realized that Reid probably would hold that over my head as well. I grabbed a green sponge out of the bucket, rung it out, and tossed it over to Reid, who was sitting on Mary Anne's desk. He caught it, and jumped down. Then he arched his back, and leaned over her desk, scrubbing the top gently in a circular motion.  
  
I turned back to the black board, and wiped down all the parts I could reach, with the exception of the top. I was 5' 2" and had a little trouble reaching the highest parts of the blackboard. " Ugh!" I said, jumping up to swipe the top of the board. I missed. "Want me to get that Jules?" called Reid from behind me. " Yeah, sure." I said, wishing I was 4 inches taller, and ticked that Reid was calling me "Jules". That name was reserved for family, and close friends. And Reid was neither. I mean, he could be nice on occasion, but that didn't make him my friend.  
  
He came up behind me with his sponge, and reached over me to the top of the board. "Excuse me", I said ducking out of the closing space between his body and the blackboard. "Sorry" he said , digging the sponge into the upper left hand corner, where a lot of chalk dust had gathered. I walked towards the back of the class room near the door, ready to tackle the two chalk boards back there. I was still upset about Reid calling me Jules. Terry had given that name to me when we were little because he knew I had hated it. But now, as I looked back on those days, the name suddenly had a weird sort of appeal. Probably not even connected with the name itself. Maybe it was just because Terry had called me that name so many times before, and aside from minor usage by my family, I wasn't used to hearing it used by anyone else.  
  
"So," said Reid, done scrubbing the top of the board. "You have something for Terry?" "What do you mean," I said, confused. "I don't understand what you're talking about" I said, keeping my back to him. " I'm talking about the buddy-buddy deal between you and Ter. Seems a little too close if you ask me." I felt my cheeks heat up, and I cringed. I didn't like getting into this discussion with Marie, who bugged me about it all the time, as sisters tend to do. But this was Reid. Not a person I really wanted to talk to about my feelings.  
  
I sighed and turned around to face Reid, who was now sitting on the edge of a desk that had yet to be cleaned, his legs dangling over the side. "Terry and I have been friends for a really long time" I told him, annoyed that he was making me explain myself. " Our parents are best friends, so he and I were expected to be friends. And we are. I've known him all my life. So he knows a lot about me." I turned back to Reid, my hand on my hip. "Suuure" said Reid, making me want to whack him with a chair, or something at least that heavy. " Like I'm really gonna buy that. How dumb do you think I am?" He hopped off the desk, and walked a few steps closer to me. I felt trapped.  
  
I gave him the evil eye and thought to myself " It's not how dumb I think you are. I KNOW your dumb, trust me, it's that obvious". At that point I took my sponge and threw it at him, so frustrated that I felt like I could scream .I was hoping that would give him the message to retreat, and go back to cleaning desks. " Don't you understand English?" I said, wishing he would just drop it. " " Well," he said, dodging my sponge and taking two more steps toward me, putting us within arms reach of each other, " Since Love is the universal language, and I speak it fluently.Yeah, I would say I speak fluent English, and the translation of what your telling me is 'I love Terry, He's just so hot and sexy.' " At this point, I was ten seconds away from killing Reid, as I watched him throw his hand up to his forehead, swoon, and put on a girlie voice. Did I mention I HATE Reid Heron? Well multiply that feeling by a thousand, and you get a tiny idea of what I was ready to do to him at that moment.  
  
Although I wanted to ring his skinny little neck, I turned back to the blackboard and moved to its edge, where that one finished and the other began. Reid could drive a person insane. He could be either doctor Jeckle or Mr. Hyde. You never know which one your going to get. Reid could be really sweet, but sometimes it was for all the wrong reasons. Other times, he could be mean, but I honestly don't think he the means to be mean and inconsiderate. The bottom line is, he confuses me. And what people can't understand, they are either afraid of, or they learn to hate. That's just how humans deal with things. I don't necessarily think its the best way to deal with things, but its what I resort to , along with the rest of the population.  
  
I moved my arm across the lower portion of the third blackboard, and accidentally knocked the chalk off it. It hit the tile floor and broke into two pieces I sighed as I bent over to pick it up. My hair fell over my face, letting me look only down at the piece of chalk, an my pentacle, which had fallen out from beneath my shirt as I had bent down. With my right hand, I pulled the hair on that side back behind my ear, knowing it would only stay that way for a few seconds. I wished for the millionth time that day that I had remembered to bring a hair clip to school. Most days, I was lucky if I remembered to pack all my books, much less any additional things like hair accessories.  
  
I picked up the chalk with my left hand, when out of the corner of my right eye, I saw Reid staring at me. "What do you want now Reid?" I said, standing up and grabbing my pentacle as I got ready to put it back under my shirt. " Nothing he said. I turned back to the chalk board, and proceeded to wash down the rest of it. Or at least what I was able to reach. A few seconds later I realized that I didn't hear Reid's sponge making a slight swishing noise anymore. I could feel eyes on me, and I turned around, wondering what the heck he was doing now. "Reid, I said getting ticked off. "Why are you looking at me? What do you want now?"  
  
Reid looked at me, and then shook him self back into reality. He was still standing within arms reach of me, and for some reason, it bothered me to be that close to him. Especially since he was just standing there. Reid looked at the pentacle, and then started to speak slowly, as if he was sort of confused and a little surprised.  
  
" It's just that my brother, Ben, has a necklace like that. Same little circle with a star inside of it. Where did you get it?" I looked at him in awe for a few seconds before the gears in my head started analyzing what he had said. "Your brother is the friggin' high priest of a coven! How could you not know what a pentacle is?" Then I realized that it was possible that Reid's family didn't know that Ben was Wiccan. I just had never thought that Ben would have to hide it like I had to.  
  
I looked at Reid, and thought about his family. Reid's parents we devout Christians, and stopping to reflect on that, I realized that most of our community was. Ben had always seemed so open about it though. Even in school. If anyone asked about it he would always answer their questions, and on a good day, recruit a new future witch. But I guess that Ben's parents wouldn't be OK with that. Mr. And Mrs. Heron were the type of people who always sat in the front pew at church, and went to confession once every week. I was surprised that they would even have anything to confess, considering how much they loved God, and how they were undoubtedly two of the nicest people in town. They were model Catholic citizens, but that was their religion. Not Ben's.  
  
"It was a gift to me from my grandmother." I said. "And yeah, your right, You r brother does have one that's rather similar to this one. Why?" Reid looked at me, as if reanalyzing who I was, and then cautiously said, " My brother.he hangs out with a lot of odd people. They all have that same necklace. I just didn't expect you to.to be one of those people." Reid looked at me, and then asked me something I had figured he would ask sooner or later about my "unusual" necklace. " What is it? And what does it mean?" I looked at him, and tried to figure out how to phrase my answer. I knew that if I just came out and told him that it meant that his brother and I were witches, he would probably freak out. And while I found it somewhat appealing to see a cool but arrogant guy freak out, especially Reid, I wasn't that cruel.  
  
I decided that the only way to approach his question, was to shoot another one at him. That way I could figure out what exactly he wanted to know, and if he would be OK with certain pieces of information. " Reid," I said cautiously. "What do you believe in?" " What do you mean 'what do I believe in' " said Reid, looking at me like he knew I was avoiding his question. " Well," I said, trying to format the right words. No words came to me. Reid looked at me, staring at me, through me almost. I felt like if I let him look through me for a few more seconds, he'd have my whole friggin life story in his head. I turned back to the board, and said quickly, " Never mind Reid. It's just a kinky little charm", I said, hoping he would just leave it at that, though I knew he wouldn't let me off that easily.  
  
"No", said Reid, stepping closer to me. I couldn't see him, but I could hear his sneakers squeak softly as he slid closer. "I know for a fact that its not a charm. You treat it like a prized possession. What does it mean Julie? Tell me." I cringed, and I'm pretty sure my back arched. I panicked. It had just occurred to me that if I told Reid what Ben was involved with, Reid might tell his parents, and the coven would self-destruct.  
  
I wished that I could get out of there, but I was stuck for another twenty minutes before Mr. Cello was expected to arrive back in the classroom. Look Reid, I said, finishing the last of the chalk boards. I spun around and looked at him. He was practically in my face, and I could see that he ,meant business. " Why do you care so much?" I said, making a last ditch effort to get him off my case. But of course, this is Reid were talking about here.  
  
"I care because he's my brother." said Reid. "If he's doing something that gets him in over his head, I want to know about it. The fact that your keeping it a secret from me makes me awfully suspicious Jules." I cringed and looked down at my feet as he said my name. It still bothered me that he would use it. " Look," I said, trying to calm him down a little. " It's basically a symbol, similar to a cross or Jewish star. It's the mark of a religion that a lot of people don't practice anymore. OK?" " I looked back up from the floor to his face, trying to figure out what was registering in his brain. I couldn't tell.  
  
He looked at me and took a couple of steps back, positioning himself on my desk. " He nodded slightly and said, " That's all you can tell me? Don't you think I deserve more than that?" I looked at his eyes, and thought back to how mean he had been in the past towards me. " No" I said, crossing my arms over my chest, having dropped the sponge on the floor. " I don't think you deserve anymore information than that. I don't really know if you should be messing with something you don't understand." "What do you think I'm trying to do!?!" Reid said, jumping down off the top of the desk. " What do I think you're doing?", I restated, trying to buy time and figure out what was making me so defensive. Then it hit me. "I think your thinking of messing with the only stable thing in my life right now." I said, looking sideways, realizing that I was trying to protect Wicca at all costs.  
  
"Jules, said Reid. There's a lot you don't tell people. Terry tells me all the time how secretive you are. And I want the truth. Is Ben doing something that I should worry about?" I looked at Reid, and I saw, for the first time, that there was something in his life he cared more about that having a girlfriend or being popular. Reid was genuinely worried about Ben. I scanned Reid's forehead, looking at the creases, so unfamiliar to his face. I doubt he had worn a worried expression more than a dozen times in his whole life.  
  
"Reid, I said, a feeling bit more good natured than before. "He's perfectly fine. He's just hanging out with a group of people, who happen to believe the same things he does." "What things Julie? You hang with him. What do you believe in?" I started to play with my hands, as I looked down at the sponge on the floor next to my feet. I had asked him that question just a few seconds before, and he had skirted around it, reciting the question back at me. "I asked you first I said, looking up at him again."  
  
"Never mind Julie," said Reid, shrugging and turning do that his back was too me. He walked toward the front of the room and rang out his sponge over the bucket Mr. Cello had provided us with. I was glad that conversation was over, but I couldn't figure out why Reid and I were always on edge around each other. I realized that Reid was a hard person for me to understand. He had two sides. One he showed only to those he loved and cared about, and the other was a front. A way to get by in life. I also realized that there was a reason why I had felt to threatened when he started questioning Wicca, not that he even knew what that was, or that that had been what we were talking about the whole time.  
  
The reason I got so touchy was because Wicca was the most stable thing in my life. My parents had been together for a long time, and then suddenly broke up. My friends, like Kara and Anne, were always at each others throats, making me feel like I could lose either of them at anytime, without warning. Things were confusing between me and Terri, and I didn't want anyone challenging something that was so essential at that point in my life.  
  
I reached across my neck, and grabbed my pentacle, wishing I was at Grams. I needed some of her special tea. I groaned and my shoulders slumped as I looked to the clock at my left, and realized that Mr. Cello was now five minutes late. I didn't want to have to deal with mom, or Christine, or even Terry. I just wanted to go home.  
  
As I watched the second hand, that sick feeling in my stomach got worse. Whatever was going to happen, had definitely gotten worse after my talk with Reid. I pressed my hand onto my stomach in an effort to quiet the feeling. I sat down at Reid's desk, and used my other hand to grip my pentacle. " What is it! I kept asking myself, wishing the pain would go away. "This day just keeps getting better and better. I hate when I get this feeling. Nothing ever goes right."  
  
I looked over at Reid who had finished the desks, and was sitting on the floor, knees to chest, his arms neatly folded atop his knees. He was looking down at the floor, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. We sat that way a few more minutes, me sitting in Reid's seat, Reid siting in the front corner on the floor wishing time would go faster.  
  
Just then We herd footstep s approaching us from down the corridor. They were far apart, but had a distinct clicking noise, making then sound very similar to tap shoes. Reid moved him arms to his sides, and hoisted himself up off the ground. I got up and walked over to the bucket, dropping my sponge inside.  
  
As I turned around and started to walk towards my own seat, as Reid had now positioned himself in his own, Mr. Cello walked through the door. " Did you finish your punishment? Were the first words out of his sorry mouth. "Yeah," said Reid to Mr. Cello. "Right Julie?" Reid turned his head in my direction, and a weak "yes" tumbled out of my mouth. I felt guilty about how I had acted towards him. I had been selfish, just trying to protect my own stability. He wasn't trying to protect himself. He had only been trying to look out for Ben.  
  
Mr. Cello walked up and down the isles, inspecting the desks and the chalk boards, searching for any sort of filth. There wasn't any. He frowned, as if disappointed that he couldn't yell at us. " Fine, he said. You may leave. But let it be understood that there are to be no further interruptions in my class room. YOU ARE TO ARRIVE ON TIME, PAY ATTENTION, AND THERE IS TO BE NO HORSING AROUND! Is that clear Mr. Heron?" " Yeah", mumbled Reid. " And you Julie?" Said Mr. Cello, I looked at him, thinking about how much he appeared to hate me. " Crystal." I said. "Good." Said Mr. Cello, "You may leave."  
  
Reid and I picked up our book, and I handed him his pink stained sweater, and we headed out the door together. We walked down the first hallway in silence. His legs were longer than mine, and I had to take two steps to every one of his, in order to keep up with him. " Reid" I said, looking to my left where he was walking. He didn't respond, he just kept his eyes forward, lost in his own little world.  
  
"Look Reid," I said, wanting to get his attention." I'm sorry OK? I know you were just checking up on Ben. He's absolutely fine. I promise you. He's not doing anything bad. If he was, you'd know about it. I would have told you. OK?" " Yeah, fine" said Reid, slowing down a bit. I welcomed the break, and felt better now that I had been honest with him. He looked at me and then said, "Julie, you have a lot of secrets. I'm not saying that whatever you guys are doing is bad, but when someone's that secretive about something, it usually means they're doing something they shouldn't be. Be straight forward with me. OK?"  
  
I made direct eye contact with Reid as we rounded the second corridor, and reviewed what he had just said, in my head. " "Yeah, OK," I said, acknowledging his point of view. I didn't really feel like saying anything else to him. As we walked out the doorway and into the parking lot, I realized that I now had a different view of Reid Heron than when I had entered. But what he was to me now, I don't know. Chapter 5  
  
When I got home, after walking the two blocks, Mom 's green Chevy pickup was already in the driveway. She worked as a nurse, and usually she was working wacky hours, which meant that a lot of the time I came home to an empty house. We owned a small raised ranch, it had three bedrooms, and a family room in the basement. There was a kitchen /living room/dining room and one bathroom. The kitchen /living room/dining room, was basically a big room that had a stove against one wall, along with a sink and cabinets, then after about seven feet, you came to our dining room table, which seated five, and after ten feet or so, you wound up on the other side of the room, where there was a fireplace, a large old rug with a yellowed floral pattern, a couch , ottoman, and coffee table. Two mismatched armchairs stood opposite each other, about a foot aside from and in front of the arms of the couch. Not your traditional house, but we liked it.  
  
I walked on the dirt driveway till I reached the stepping stone walk way. I kicked my white tennis sneakers an the stones, trying to shake some of the driveways dirt of them, before walking up the three stairs that bought me to our bright red front door. Since the house was made of brick on the bottom, and white paneling on the top, Red was one of our only choices for shutters and front doors. Our other choice was to paint it black. And that wasn't too appealing. I stood on the stoop, key in my hand, getting ready to open the front door, when I began to really think about why mom was home at such an early hour.  
  
Being the pessimist I am, I immediately thought of bad things. " I wonder if she got fired. Shit.we'd have to move then. Or I'd have to go live with Dad and his little girlfriend. There's no way mom got fired. She's a really good nurse. Maybe she got aides or something from a patient? I've seen that happen on television. It could happen in real life is she wasn't careful." A chill ran through my whole body as I pictured my mom accident pricking herself with an infected needle. " No, she wouldn't do that. She's too careful when it comes to stuff like that. That's why she's such a good nurse to begin with."  
  
I decided to just go find out, and I put my key in the lock and opened the door. " Mom?" I yelled, hoping she'd hear me. "Where are you?" "I'm in your room Julie," she said. Since my room is on the same floor as the family room, which is down stairs, right underneath the living room portion of our house, I went down the stairs and took a left, wondering what she was doing in my room. To get to my room, I had top go through Marie's bedroom first. At the moment it was filled with boxes of stuff from the divorce. Mom had packed up all Dad's stuff, and left it there. He was supposed to come pick it up sometime in the near future, but with my Dad, the likely hood of that happening within the next few days was slim to none. Marie complained constantly about falling over the boxes, but since she had the biggest bed room, and was the tidiest, we tended to dump things in there. At the moment though, Marie wasn't around. She was probably out at the library or shopping with her friends.  
  
I picked over boxes, trying find a direct path to my room. " I'm coming," I said, moving boxes aside. "I'll be there in a second. I'm in Marie's room." As I moved slowly through the wall of boxes, I started to think up excuses for why I was so late coming home from school. But by the time I got to the door of my room , I hadn't thought of anything. She was in there, standing near my bad, in front of my dresser, tapping her foot at me. Her arms were crossed and she didn't look all that happy to see me.  
  
" I came home from work today for lunch, and I thought I'd do some laundry. I came into your room to get some, and happened to spot a sock sticking out from under your bed. I looked underneath it and you wouldn't believe what I found." I looked over at my bed as she trailed off, and there was my book of shadows, my healing herbs, my candles, and my miniature alter all tossed atop my unmade bed.  
  
I felt like I was going to throw up. My stomach was killing me, and I knew that mom finding my Wiccan stuff was like the Nazi's finding Jews hidden in a German household. I felt my pentacle against my neck and was glad that it was just long enough to be hidden underneath my shirt. I leaned back against the wall behind my door so that I would have something behind me in case I passed out. I looked at my stuff, knowing that it was probably going to be the last time I'd ever see any of it. I looked over at mom, and saw that her eyes were like two black holes. Those cold black eyes were looking at me, and In felt almost like I was being sucked in. No matter what I did now, I'd lose the only stable thing I had.  
  
"What do you think you're doing with these things Julie? These things are permanently banned from this household. And I don't need to tell you why. I know your grandmother told you all about your father's past. She couldn't wait to tell you. As soon as the divorce was finalized she told you lies, put evil thoughts into your head. But if you think your gonna practice some form of devil worship in my house, under my roof, you've got a hell of a lot coming to you. I don't know where you got any of this stuff from, but I never want to see it again. You will go to church, you will pray to God, and you will leave the devil in Hell, where he belongs!"  
  
I tried to say something in my defense, but mom was on a role. " I screwed up by marrying your father. I let him keep all his old magic stuff. He promised me that we would raise you girls to believe in God, and that this magic crap wasn't gonna be a part of the picture. I don't care if he lives under this roof or not, that promise is going to go unbroken. That's it! You are my daughter. Not your grandmother's daughter! If you want to go worship the devil and cast spells, go live with her! But until your old enough to make that decision, I have news for you. Your stuck here. I'm taking this stuff and burning it. And if I ever see it again, you're going to go live with your father and his little girlfriend. Do you hear me?  
  
I nodded slightly, my head back against the wall. I wanted to disappear into it altogether. Tears started to form in my eyes, and I pulled my hands behind my back, bringing my shoulders up towards my ears. I loved Wicca. It gave me the feeling that I had control over something. Wicca helped me get through the divorce, and had brought me closer to my grandmother. I felt connected to my father through it, even though he wasn't really around anymore. And she was going to take that all away from me.  
  
I wanted to scream as she picked up a card board box and started to toss my stuff into it. I could get another alter, I could buy more candles, I could even grow more herbs, but there was no way that I could ever replace my beloved book of shadows. I needed that! Without it, I wouldn't have any proof that I had been studying witchcraft long enough to become a witch, even though the initiation was still months away.  
  
"And you are grounded indefinitely. I don't care if you're fifteen or if you're five. You still need to obey my rules. And more importantly, you need to learn to obey God's rules." With that, she took the box, turned off my light, leaving me with only the light my window provided, and left my room, slamming my door shut. I slid down the wall, wishing I was dead, tears pouring down my face. I sat on the floor, holding my knees up to my chest, crying and rocking myself back and forth. The last time I'd let myself cry was six months ago when I first found out about the divorce. After that I felt afraid to cry, like if I started, everything would just pour out. Like I wouldn't be able to stop crying. My Wiccan sense hadn't been wrong after all. It had been getting stronger all this time, and now when I was supposed to be practicing with it more often, it became banned form my life.  
  
"What did Wicca ever do to hurt you!" I screamed inside my head. " You can't just take away everything I believe in! I have a constitutional right to practice any religion I want! Why can't you just accept me for who I am!" I screamed at my mother's image in my head. "I could have said a million and one things when she was standing here, an I didn't. Not that It would have made any difference, but a person,, any decent person, and especially a witch, has to know when to stand up for themselves". My hands formed fists and I grabbed the rug tightly beneath my fingers. " I also need to know when I'm beat". I thought to myself, releasing the carpet. I dragged my hand across it, trying to smooth out the parts I had forced upwards. I tried to stop the tears, but they just kept on coming.  
  
After a certain point, my mind just sort of shut down. I got, what's known as "tunnel vision". When your mind has a message to be sent, you get tunnel vision, and you feel dizzy. You can see a picture in your mind, and send that picture subconsciously to someone else who has a similar spiritual understanding as that of your own. This connection is strongest between witches, especially those who live with other witch siblings. But sometimes, if someone who isn't a witch really feels something in their heart, they can also see and send messages.  
  
I kept crying and stayed right where I was, back to the wall, sitting down on the floor, my knees up to my chest. I started playing with my pentacle, and thinking about Gram. I pictured her in my mind, sitting in her brightly lit country kitchen , sorting herbs into different jars, smiling and twisting them in her fingers before she put each one in its properly labeled jar. Gram looked happy, her long white hair piled elegantly on top of her head, her long flowy shirt sleeves accenting her turquoise rings. The sleeves were tight at the elbow, and the midnight blue color matched her eyes. I looked at her for a little while, thinking about how long it had taken for me to learn how to do this. I ad actually learned very quickly, but I don't have much patience. So what takes me an hour to learn, feels like a day.  
  
I focused on gram, while then explaining over and over again in my mind, what had just taken place. Why I wouldn't be able to see her that night. That I was grounded, and stripped of my magick possessions. I Waited to see if Gram got the message. A couple of seconds later, her head perked up, and she put down the herbs in her hand. I watched as she closed her eyes and received my message. A few seconds later, I felt one coming back to me.  
  
"Don't worry Honey. It's going to be OK." I felt her hand brush away my tears, even though I knew that if I opened my eyes, I would see nothing but the room spinning around me. "I know this is hard for you, but Wicca is always going to be a part of who you are. It's in your blood. Never question the fact that you are Wiccan, and that you are a witch." I knew Gram was right, that it was too late for Mom to change me. My fate had been decided before I was even born. " Remember," said Gram to me before the vision went away. " You will always have a refuge here. And I will do anything I can to help you."  
  
I opened my eye's and felt alone once again. The room stopped turning, and the feeling in my stomach was gone. I knew that everyone, regardless of, or sometimes because of religion, would face a prejudice in their life. Mine just happened to center around my Wiccan beliefs. I released my pentacle, feeling drained. Connecting with anyone through those sort of means, regardless of if they believed in or it or not, was tiring. It takes a lot of mental energy to send and receive messages.  
  
I Shivered, realizing that I had left my window open the whole time I had been crying. It must have been open the whole time I had been at school. I got up off the floor, feeling more confident and reassured , and slowly walked across the floor to the window. I paused before I shut it, looking out at our street. There were a few other houses on the block, and they already had their lights on. It was dusk, and I saw that the sky had taken on a reddish purple tint. I kept forgetting that summer was over. That the days were getting shorter, not to mention colder.  
  
Most of the houses on our block were built like ours, except for the fact that most of them had additions on them. We were a small enough street, but each house had one to two little post lights by the top of their drive way. They were nice to look at at night, and they reminded me of the lights that you sometimes see in New York, by the entrances to subway stations. We were down towards the end of a cul-de-sack. Right in the middle of the loop. I liked the fact that being at the end of the street made me feel safe. I mean ----- was a pretty safe town to begin with, but I felt safe on that street in particular, because it was brightly lit and your neighbors were all right there. There was forested area behind all the houses, but it didn't make anyone feel secluded. It felt almost like having a community within a community. And at that point, I needed to be in a community.  
  
I pulled the window closed, and grabbed a sweater off the back of my desk chair. I instantly felt warmer as I boroughed inside the fleece pullover. I put my arms into the sleeves, but didn't put my hands through the elastic cuffs. Instead, I made a fist and tucked the elastic wrist cuffs into that fist, and rubbed my two, now cloth covered fists, back and forth against each other, trying to dry the splotches of tears on my hands.  
  
I sat down on the edge of my bed, my legs dangling off the side. There was little room between my feet and my night table, which was inches away from where I had been sitting, and the window was right next to that. I grabbed my cherry lip gloss off the night table, and turned on the lamp atop it. It had been dark in the room. I thought the fact that this was the time when I usually lit a candle, and made a circle, praying and reading from published books of shadows that I had borrowed from the library. I had returned those books the day before, and hadn't found the time to get new ones to read.  
  
I sighed, realizing that I wouldn't be able to meet Christine and Ben and the others for tonight's circle. Circles were usually held in the denser woods behind the school. No one else really went back there, and though there was supposed to be a cop patrolling school grounds at night, he never really showed up. And besides, who would really want to be at school after hours anyway?  
  
Oh well, I though lying down on my unmade bed, my arms pinned back behind my head. My mind started to review this afternoons events in my head. "On the bright side, mom was so busy with the Wicca stuff that she didn't ask me where I was for an extra hour after school. I suppose that's good right?" " Right", I said aloud, breaking the silence of my otherwise dead room.  
  
"Who are you talking to?" , asked a voice on the other side of my bedroom door. "Hi Marie", I called, realizing that she must have come home just a few minuets ago. Otherwise she would have come in to see why I was crying. " I'm not talking to anyone. I'm just mumbling to myself." "Oh, I see", said Marie, opening my door and sticking her head in. "Bad day?" " The worst", I said, propping myself up on my elbows. " Well your not the only one. Mom doesn't seem to be in a good mood either. She keeps smashing pots and spoons and draws as she makes dinner." "Fuuuun" said sarcastically, dropping back onto my bed and staring at the ceiling. " Yeah, well, said Marie, looking around my room. "When was the last time you cleaned out this place? She asked. It's starting to look like a pig pen. " Actually," I said, rolling over on my side to face her, "Mom cleaned part of my room today, took half my stuff with her." " Oh," said Marie. "I take it she threw out some of your poems?" " Not exactly" I said.  
  
I looked at Marie as she bent over to pick up some crumpled pieces of notebook paper on the floor by the door. She was two years older than I was, but we got along unusually well. But we didn't look as I f we were sisters. She had dad's dark brown hair, I had mom's auburn locks. I had hazel eyes, and hair that went down to my waist, Marie had short hair, but she had the same hazel eyes. It was a family trait. On dad's side at least. She was taller than me, by about half a foot, and she always used that to her advantage, calling me "squirt" or "Thumbilina". But in return I called her the "Jolly green giant", so that evened the score a little bit.  
  
We were both honor students, and we both ran for the track team in the spring. She however, had the faster record. I was sort of expected to keep up her reputation in school, and I think I did a pretty good job. I mean, I have never had the same type of popular friends as she had, and I wasn't a cheerleader, but I kept up with her physically, and mentally as far as school goes, so I never really had a problem. She kept tabs on me sometimes, and when she got a ride someplace with her boyfriend, I sometimes came along, but on the whole, I tried to leave her out of my life. I wanted to be my own person, and not have to constantly try to keep up with the records she set. Even if that meant sometimes not quite meeting the standards everyone else set as well.  
  
By the way, said Marie, turning to leave my room. " Terry called a little while ago. You might want to call him back before mom fully takes away your phone privileges." " OK I said, lying back against my pillow." Marie shut the door as she left, being satisfied that she had at least cleaned up a bit of my room, thereby making a walk way. I sat up on the bed, and across my room, to my computer desk. As a way to say sorry, Dad had bought both Marie and myself computers, since he wouldn't be near us anymore. It was his way of staying in touch with us.  
  
I booted my computer, and watched as the little green and yellow lights flashed across the monitor. I clicked on the little Internet icon, and typed in my screen name and password. I few seconds later I heard " Welcome FallenAngel 16!" " Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mumbled, clicking on my email box. I sifted through the junk mail, and was ready to close it out and log off, when something caught my eye. It was an email with an address I didn't recognize. It was marked " to be opened by an up and coming witch ". I thought for a second before opening it, not sure who could have sent it to me. Ben and I didn't exchange email addresses, and gram doesn't do email. Those were the only two people, besides Christine, who knew about my being a witch. Against my better judgment, I opened the email.  
  
Inside were written the word's:  
  
"Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." MAY YOUR MAGIC LEAD YOU TO YOUR DESTINY.AND GUIDE YOU THROUGH THIS LIFE. PRAISE THE GODDESS."  
  
"What the.I said, wondering who had sent it. I got chills reading it, and looked at the font style, hoping that would maybe give me a clue as to who wrote it. If you frequently use the net, you usually have a standard personal font. But this font was just the normal Times New Roman. A dead end. OK, I said, trying to think of another way to trace it. I clicked on email history, and it said, 'origin of email is unknown'. Another dead end. I closed out of the mailbox, knowing that I already had a lot to do, and that this mystery person could wait till later.  
  
just as I was about to log off, Christine got on. The Instant Message screen appeared, and the conversation went as follows:  
  
Darkie189: Hi Hun! Whatcha doing? You weren't on the bus this afternoon, and Mary Anne said you were being lectured by Jell-O? FallenAngel 16: Yeah, Reid and I got stuck after for detention cuz we came in late, and a whole slew of other things. Darkie189: What's with that guy? Doesn't he have enough fun torturing us in class? FallenAngel 16: Guess not cuz he seemed to enjoy himself while he was making us clean his class room. Darkie189: OK, so you got any good news for me? FallenAngel 16: Yeah, Terry likes girls who wear their hair up. Don't ask me why. It's a hassle. Lol. Darkie189: Ooook.sure, just for the hell of it, I'll go along with that. So, what else is up? FallenAngel 16: Not much, except for the fact that I can't come to tonight's circle. I'm grounded.indefinitely. ( Darkie189: Awww Hun, what happened? Your sure you cant go? Please? It's not the same without you! I don't want to go by myself! FallenAngel 16: Yeah, I know but there isn't anything I can do. Can you tell Ben I won't be there? And not to wait for me? Darkie189: Hold up girl.I have an idea. What would you say to sneaking out? If I could make sure you wouldn't get caught? FallenAngel 16: Whoa, wait. Don't you think that my mom would notice if I wasn't here? Especially since here is the only place I'm allowed to be at the moment? FallenAngel 16: And besides, how the hell could you pull that off? Do you know what she'd do if she caught me? I got grounded cuz she found my Wiccan stuff. Don't you think she'd be just a little pissed if she knew where I was going? Specially after she told me specifically not to do any more Wiccan stuff? Darkie189: Let me handle it OK? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Remember? I owe you Hun. Let me handle this. Darkie189: Just answer me this. Do you have any kids whom you baby-sit for like four hours at a time? FallenAngel 16: Yeah why? What does that have to do with anything? You want to fill me in here? Darkie189: Give em their names, and the number, and the name of their mom. Hurry up! FallenAngel 16: Mrs. Writhes, she's got two little kids, Billie and Sammy, twins, five years old. 456-7435. FallenAngel 16: Chris! What the hell are you doing? TELL ME! Darkie189: OK, you're "baby-sitting" tonight. You will tell your Mom that you promised Mrs. Writhes you would baby-sit tonight. Darkie189: Your Mom, lets you go, but really your coming to the circle. Darkie189: I'm leaving a message on my answering machine, that's gonna say "HEY! You know what to do! And if it's Jules, have fun baby-sitting tonight. I'll call you later." That way, when your mom calls to se if your lying to her, and I know she'll call, she will have my confirmation, and she'll think you really are baby-sitting. OK? FallenAngel 16: Are you nuts! You actually think you can pull this off? Do you see how many things could go wrong here? Darkie189: Don't worry about it! Get ready, meet you at school in a half an hour. Bye Hun! FallenAngel 16: Wait! Christine! Darkie189: Away Message: I'm not here right now. But I might be back later. Or not.love you all! FallenAngel 16: Shit Chris, just run out why don't you.ugh. You and your stupid ideas. Fine. Bye then. See you in a few minutes.  
  
I logged off the net, wondering what the heck I had just gotten myself into.  
  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
I grabbed my baby-sitting carrying bag, and slung it over my shoulder. Inside I had put a candle and about twenty five dollars in cash, and my cell phone. I grabbed a sweatshirt, and stuffed it into the top of the bag to hide the evidence, and went upstairs. Mom was in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around, and the kitchen smelt good, like simmering stew. I could smell spices coming from a covered pot on the stove, and was tempted to stay for dinner, but I could always grab some when I got home. I looked at the clock. The second hand was slowly moving around the face, and I realized that it was almost six thirty, and the last of the sunlight was leaving the sky. " Mom?", I said, trying to get her attention. She was bent over her head and hands in the lower cabinet next to the stove. I could hear a muffled " What?" as she clattered pots and pans around, apparently looking for one of an appropriate size for whatever it was she was making.  
  
"I have a baby-sitting job tonight", I said, trying to speak loud enough that she would hear me inside the cabinet. It's for Mrs. Writhes. I'm watching the twins for four hours. I'll drive back home by ten. If your looking to contact me, you'll have to call Chris, she has the number because I got the job from her." " Are you aware of how confusing that sounds?", my mother said, pulling herself out from inside the cabinet, her face red. She dropped the pot onto the stove and started throwing things into it, like broccoli, and water, as she turned up the jet on the stove.  
  
"Wait, how exactly did you get a baby-sitting job from Christine for the Writhes?" "Well Mrs. Writhes called up Chris to baby-sit but Chris was busy, so she told Mrs. Writers that I had liked baby-sitting for her kids last time and that I would be happy to do it again,. So I'm going to go watch them. OK?" "Fine. But call me when you get there, and when you're ready to leave OK?" Thanks mom, I said, and grabbed the car keys off the kitchen table. I ran to the front door, and smiled to myself, realizing that maybe Christine wasn't that crazy after all. I turned off the alarm on the burgundy Nissan pathfinder Dad had bought for Marie and me, so that we could come see him whenever we chose, and opened the driver side door.  
  
I tossed my bag onto the beige leather passengers seat, and shut the door. I put the key in he ignition, and turned to my favorite radio station, kc101, which was playing "A moment like this", by Kelly Clarkson. I pulled out of the drive way, and started to drive In the direction of the school. It was dark now, the sun had completely set, and I thought about the email, and who could possibly have sent it. I still had no idea. Who ever it was obviously knew a lot about me, more than I would probably tell most people. I reviewed it in my head over and over again.. "MAY YOUR MAGIC LEAD YOU TO YOUR DESTINY.AND GUIDE YOU THROUGH THIS LIFE.PRAISE THE GODDESS." It just seemed off. Most people knew very little about my Wiccan beliefs, and those who did wouldn't know enough to use the word "goddess". I kept trying to think of anyone who could have done it, but I couldn't come up with a single person.  
  
I pulled into the school parking lot about five minutes later, and saw that most of the others were already there, their empty cars littering the parking lot. Christine was sitting on the roof of her car, her legs crossed, and she was waving at me. I waved back as I pulled into the empty space next to hers. Ben's car was on my left side, and I knew that Christine had probably told him not to start until I got there.  
  
The thing about a Wiccan circle is that once everyone gets inside the circle that's been drawn, and they hold hands, no one can break or enter the circle. So if you miss it, you miss it. You have to arrive on time. And usually it's expected that you will bring some sort of offering, usually a candle or some fruit, maybe a piece of seasonal art, which is then placed on a small alter in the middle of the circle. That was what I loved about Wicca. You don't pray to an idol, you don't sacrifice anything in the name of some god, all you do is hold hands and say things, thanking the earth for the seasons, and trusting that you will always have all the fundamental things you need. What you do with the power that the earth gives to you is your choice. And it preached that all people had the chance to do a great deal of good.  
  
I grabbed my bag, shut off the radio, and grabbed the keys, making a mental note to buy Kelly ---'s CD. "Hey Chris", I said, slamming the car door shut. "Did you remember to set up the answering machine?" "Yep", she said. All set. Ben and the others have already gone down to the back field. He told me to wait here for you and that we wouldn't start till you arrived." "Thanks a lot Chris", I said, excited to be there. "Just give me a second to ring my mom. I'm supposed to call her as soon as I arrive at the 'Writhes house'", I said, using my fingers as quotation marks.  
  
Chris and I started down to the back fields, the moon guiding our way. I pulled out my cell phone, and using the moon and backlight, punched in my home phone number. I got our answering machine. " Hey mom, I said. I'm here. Talk to you later, bye." And then I hung up. I didn't really want to risk her coming to pick up the phone from whatever room she was in. What if she asked me questions about my job and I messed up the plan somehow? " OK Chris, I said, as we neared the thickest part of the woods. " You were right. I got away with it." " See? " said Chris, a 'wasn't that just so easy' look on her face.  
  
We kept walking for a few more minutes, pretty quietly, when I heard a rustling, a s if something was burying itself in old dead leaves. "What was that?" I said, looking behind me in anticipation of seeing some small animal or something, but there wasn't anything there. " What was what?" Asked Christine, looking behind me as well. "I don't hear anything. You are losing it babe." "Yeah", I said, turning back around. "I think I probably am." But I still felt a little uneasy.  
  
I could hear voices carrying across the last open field as we came out of the woods. I could even see little leaping flames from the campfire around the shadows of people. We walked down the hill, and through the last few wooded plots, until we finally came to the open field. I could see that I was indeed the last one to arrive, and we all exchanged greetings as I put the ---- down on the alter next to the fire. I took a tiny case of matches out of my back jeans pocket, and used it to light the candles on the alter.  
  
"Welcome guys!" Said Ben, motioning for everyone to stand up and get in to a large circle. I positioned myself across from Ben, who was wearing all black, and looked like one of those artsy-thearter guys you sometimes see in over dramatized high school movies. 


End file.
